Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 189, No. 4 — page 162: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

652 chair. Then something caught his eye and he looked more closely at Anson. Finally he walked to where the latter sat, leaned over and asked, abruptly: “‘ Ever done time, Anson?” “T have not,” replied the other, his voice angry. “Sorry. No harm to ask,” Jack smiled and Anson looked mollified. The New Yorker tarried no longer, but took himself off. Once outside, he hastened to the station and an hour later was in his office. V. RETURNING to Hempstead the following morning, Jack found matters still at a dead- lock. The police had not felt they had sufficient evidence on which to hold Anson, but Jack was sure that the young man was under surveillance. In fact he thought he had the shadow spotted in the person of an absorbed car- penter who was making minor repairs on one of the hangars. Which interested Jack not at all. His business was with Anson. - The latter scowled at him and demanded: ‘‘ Now what?”’ Jack came to the point at once. “ When you told me that you had never done time, Anson, you spoke the truth,” he said. ‘ But that does not mean that you never had been arrested.” Anson started at that. tryin’ to do, kid me?” “Vou can judge of that when [ tell you that you were pinched in Newark on March 5, 1920, charged with first degree robbery —the stick-up of a paymaster. The stick- up was a flop, but you were pinched two days afterward.” “JT wasn’t held,’ Anson returned, sullenty, but with a trace of underlying alarm. “{_ know it. But you see, I happened to be in the office of the D. A. over there when they were quizzing you. You had given the name of Howard Smith, and I have a hunch that is your right name. Come on, now.” “What are you “Tf you recognized me last night why « didn’t vou spill it?” copied it off for you. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “[ didn’t recognize you at first, but the way you were drawing pictures on that pad recalled something to my mind. So I went home and dug into my files, found a little note I had made in my Jersey dope. I See.” He laid a slip before Anson: NEW JERSEY Newark. Smith, Howard. March 5, 10920. First de- gree robbery. Nervous trait—Drawing churches with fence around them on paper while being questioned. Anson stared at the paper. “Tl be damned!”’ he said. “You see, when I piped you scribbling last night I sneaked a look and noticed that you were drawing more churches. That recalled Jersey, but I had to dig up my notes for name and date. Now will you come clean?”’ Anson wilted on the spot. clean,”” he said huskily. believe it.” “Go on,” Jack told him. “Well, then, Howard Smith is my real name. I was in that stick up. Id done a couple of jobs before and got away with ‘em. But that pinch threw a scare into me and I decided to cut the rough stuff and go straight. But I knew that the cops would be hot after me even if they didn’t have the goods on me then. ‘So I moved over to Manhattan, helped myself to a new moniker and studied en- gineering at Cooper Union, nights. Got a job driving a truck and later on learned to fly. I got married two years ago, and I’ve got a nice little baby girl, eight months old. I landed a good job here as experimental flyer and things have been goin’ fine. ‘Now this comes up. Ill tell you, I don’t know a damn thing about that Pyle business—not a single damn thing! But now that you are on to that Jersey stuff, you'll ride me rageed. I know!” After a minute’s silence, Jack said, quietly: “ You'd better come through, Anson.” “T got nothin’ to come through with. That’s flat!” “ T’ll come ‘“ But you won't Jack rose at once. “ Very well. No use (E(0) DOOKS MAIC (E@)